


Oh, the Rose has Wilted. It was not the Garden, nor the Water. It was the Stranger, and his poisons.

by LuxRoyalty (slytherinsdaughter)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rape Recovery, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherinsdaughter/pseuds/LuxRoyalty
Summary: Before Regis, Cor served Mors as his Crownsguard.Mors was not a nice man.





	1. The poison, the poison, what can you do?

Cor served as a bodyguard for King Mors for three years in total.

At the end of it he said as little as possible. There was nothing good to say about that man. Regis was a much better person, a much better King that Mors ever was. Maybe he had sensed that. Maybe that's why the two royals had never gotten along.

Maybe that’s why most of his loyalty went to Regis - and Noctis when he was born.

The first year went fine. The only strange part about it was the fact that he was the youngest person ever assigned to be a King’s guard. His job, that year, wasn't that close to the King, but even things like guarding the outside of his rooms were way above the duties a normal Crownsguard would get.

Only the most trusted and strongest could guard the king from this close. And Cor was one of them.

The second year started off the same. He was a little more trusted - way more trusted. Allowed to guard the inside of the rooms if the King needed it, allowed to guard the King _alone_ inside the rooms.

To be allowed to guard the King without the Shield there was a honour. He was trusted. The nearby guards were outside the doors, or down the hall. He was the last line of defence.

Then King Mors started talking to him.

“Leonis,” he said one night, “come over here.”

Cor bowed and quickly walked over to his King, standing with his hands behind his back.

King Mors looked at him with a steely gaze and gestured abruptly to the settee in front of him. “Sit.” He commanded.

Cor did as ordered and sat on the edge of the seat, avoiding King Mors’ eyes as the King watched him intently. The king reclined a little more in his seat, a glass of red wine in his hand. He tilted his head, face stern.

“Have a glass.”

“Your majesty?” Cor carefully asked him.

“Have some wine, Leonis.”

Cor blinked but took an empty wine glass and gently placed it on a coaster. He picked up the bottle of wine - it was expensive enough that only a noble, a royal, could buy it and not feel guilty. He felt guilty enough just pouring half a glass of it for himself. He had no idea what fine wine should taste like and this was wasted on him. And… he was not old enough to drink. Not until a couple of years had passed.

The bottle was only half full - he'd watched King Mors drink the rest of it.

He placed the bottle back down, out of the way, and met the King’s gaze.

“Have a sip.” The King’s voice was soft.

Cor looked back down at his glass, and for a second, watched the ripples in the red liquid. He picked it up, copying the way the King was holding his glass. He put the glass to his lips and took just a sip.

It tasted foul - he could practically feel it staining the inside of his mouth red and he glanced up at the King through his eyelashes, hoping the man hadn't noticed that Cor hadn't liked his favourite drink.

The King’s eyes were lidded as he looked at Cor. “You did not like it,” he mused, still looking.

Cor ducked his head down.

“That does not matter,” he said, voice gentle, “keep drinking it.”

Cor did as he asked, and the red of the wine felt like blood on his tongue.

 

* * *

 

It kept happening. The King kept on inviting his guard to share a drink in the informal sitting room, lights slightly dimmed and intimate. Alone with only King Mors as company, Cor drank things he shouldn't be allowed access to as the King watched him break Lucis’ laws.

Then, it changed. Cor, standing guard by the door said nothing as King Mors settled his jacket over the back of his seat but took the settee instead.

Two bottles were sitting on the side table.

“Sit.” Mors gave a familiar order but he just - hesitated. The only empty seat was the King’s chair - and he couldn't. The King patted the empty seat on the sette.

Cor took it, sitting carefully like he’d always done in front of the King, turning to peer at the man beside him.

The King just smiled lightly and picked up one of the bottles. “I had a feeling you will like this one more.”

The King had been making him drink wine for ages now - Cor wondered what had brought this on, but he thanked him anyway.

Two glasses were filled with the drinks, Mors with red wine like always but Cor’s with something new. He didn't need the King’s encouragement to try a sip. Cor blinked down at looked at it.

“It's sweet…” he murmured.

King Mors nodded and gently swished his drink around before taking a sip. He named the brand of it, relaxing into his seat like he didn't admit that he’d spent way to much on a drink for Cor.

And Cor - Cor knew that he wouldn't ever be as close to Mors as he was to Regis, as Mors wasn't that type of person. But Mors seemed to like him anyway.

Cor smiled at his King warmly, and Mors smiled back crookedly.

By the time he’d finished over half the bottle, Cor had relaxed completely back into the seat, his legs half tucked underneath him. King Mors had lost his gloves, they were set on the side-table, leather shining in the light. His eyes were lidded and warm as he looked at Cor. He didn't say a word, even though he wasn't sitting as poised as he should have been, next to his King.

Eventually he yawned, warm and tired. An arm reached out around his shoulders and drew him close. His head rested against his shoulder, Mors’ salt and pepper goatee ticking the side of his face.

He felt like he should not rest up against the man like this, but he felt safe, and the King was the one who pulled him close. He relaxed into him. Cor could hear his heartbeat through his shirt.

“Cor…” the King murmured into his ear and he turned to look at him. The man’s face was harsh in the shadows and he sighed, placing two fingers under Cor’s chin and pulling his face towards his.

Cor froze when lips met his. He'd never - it was his _King_ \- what could he do to stop it?

His eyes still open in shock, he stared into Mors' half lidded ones. He placed a hand on his King’s chest and tried to push his head back, out of the way. King Mors just moved his free hand until it was clutching the back of Cor’s neck, tangling the little hairs there.

Cor made a muffled noise into Mors' lips. He flinched when he felt a flicker of tongue and tried to pull away again, but the King didn't let him.

King Mors broke the kiss, his face still so close to him. The King shushed him, and Cor felt his hands wrap around his hips when he grabbed him. He pulled Cor into his lap, his legs spread around Mors' waist and his chest pulled up against the King’s. Cor just shut his eyes and let him - he couldn't fight against his King could he?

Moments went by full of kisses and Cor could only think of the dizziness in his head. He’d never kissed anyone before and now he just wanted it to stop.

An arm was wrapped around his waist and a hand was a bit lower, touching his ass and he no idea what to do.

“Relax,” the King whispered and kissed down his neck and he couldn't ‘ _relax’_.

Then Mors was tugging at the buttons of his trousers and he - he refused.

“No,” he pleaded and tried to wiggle away.

King Mors' face went stony and stern, holding on to him tighter as he carried on unbuttoning Cor’s clothes. “Do as I ask.” He said harshly and pulled his trousers down.

Cor went still and didn't fight it, even as he was made to take his shoes off, his trousers off, his _underwear off._  Ashe was made to sit on the King’s lap again.

He blinked rapidly, looking away from the man and over his shoulder. He didn't want to see the man he’d served for years. He felt something press against his ass and clenched his hands onto his thighs. He could feel his hands shake.

They kissed again, and Mors ‘encouraged’ him to open his mouth. The King’s tongue entered his mouth, wet and smooth and Cor shivered.

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see.

He felt the roughness of Mors’ trousers and the coolness of his hands as they rubbed small circles into his lower back and ass. One hand moved, touching his inner thigh, the feeling of knuckles rubbing there made his jaw tremble. The ring of Lucii scraped delicate flesh.

Cor curled in on himself a little, as the hand moved yet again and he heard the sound of trousers opening.

He swallowed.

The hand came back and he was tugged even closer. He could feel - it.

It brushed his thighs, before being moved and then it touched his cheeks instead. The King shoved it between his cheeks and he - didn't move.

He couldn't move.

King Mors sighed in pleasure and although quiet, the sound seemed to ring in his ears. Cor dug his nails into his thighs.

Mors rocked into him, and Cor felt the cock drag through the valley of his ass. He bit his lip, refusing to make a sound. King Mors made a soft noise, and through his eyelids he saw a flash of magic and then heard the sound of a cap opening.

When the King pressed his cock between his cheeks again Cor flinched at the cold gel. Mors grinded into him, sighing into his ear and holding his hips tight.

Eventually he seemed to get tired of it, and pulled Cor up until he rested on his knees. Cor heard the sound of the bottle being squeezed.

He opened his eyes at the feeling of a finger touching his entrance. His eyes caught Mors’ gaze as the King pushed two fingers into him, and Cor took a shuddering breath at the feeling.

He didn't want it.

The finger were thrust in and out quickly, and it burned. But as soon as it started it stopped, and Mors took them back out.

The King shifted in his seat, and clutched Cor’s waist. It wasn't hard to figure out what he wanted him to do.

Cor refused to cry. He’d served this man for years and he wanted this? How was Regis related to such a - tyrant of a King? Regis would never do this.

Slowly, he moved downwards, lips thinning when he first felt the press of the cock against him. Mors moved one hand to hold it in place. Cor broke Mors’ gaze and stared over Mors’ shoulder, refusing to look.

He gasped when he felt it press into him, his body betraying him by opening. It hurt worse than the fingers, and all he could do was sink lower like Mors commanded.

He was _not. Going. To. Cry._

Astrals, it hurt.

He felt Mor’s balls against his ass and all he felt was relief that he wasn't going to be made to take more.

But then the King pushed him up a little and he remembered that sex wasn't about staying still - it was about moving, rocking, thrusting.

Mors thrust up into him and he gasped.

The King kept - fucking - him and all he could to was take it. He gripped the back of the settee tight and hung his head, eyes closed. He didn't want to think, or see it if he didn't have to. But he couldn't block out the sounds of Mors’ sighs and gasps and the feeling of a cock sliding in and out of him.

He just wanted the man to hurry up and finish, and then never think about this again.

Eventually the hands on him gripped tightly and Mors shuddered, rocking into him gently before stopping. Cor shivered.

The King leaned forward and kissed Cor, pushing his tongue in a warped illusion of intimacy.

Then Cor was allowed off and he heard it - squelching - as something slowly ran down the inside of his thighs. He pressed his legs together and looked away from the King.

“Cor,” King Mors said, as he reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, smiling, “go to the bathroom and get clean again. You’re still on duty for the next twenty minutes.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Cor answered - that was all he could answer. He still felt the ghost of the touches burn him.

That wasn't the last time. It was just the first.

For his seventeenth birthday they had sex in Mors’ bed for the first time, and even the softness of the silk sheets couldn't distract him from the fact he didn't want to spend his birthday like this.

The King gave him a ring. A beautiful, expensive, ring. It hung on a sturdy chain, and all the whispered promises of love made it feel like a collar. He wore it - had no choice other to wear it. He hid it under his shirt, the ring pressing against his chest. Mors loved to touch it in the evenings, a soft smile lighting up his face.

He went out with Regis and Clarus the next night. They ended up watching movies and Regis offered him a ‘grown-up’ drink but didn't say anything when he said no. He fell asleep against Clarus and woke up piled with blankets. They’d given him a set of knives to fight with.

He loved them.

Mors - King Mors died before his eighteenth birthday. It was just a little thing at first, then the King got sicker and sicker, until he was in hospital with a breathing mask.

Towards the end, Cor held his hand as Mors coughed. He brushed Mors' hair away from his eyes.

Mors gave him his eighteenth birthday gift early. It was a sword from the Lucis Caelum armoury - and it was strong and pretty and useful. It was the best thing the King had ever given him.

All Mors asked for in exchanged was a kiss. He got it.

He hadn't lived to ever get another one.

And Cor - Cor mourned for Regis’ health and for Regis. He didn't miss the old King, and he didn't miss the man he was behind his title.

 

* * *

 

The ring was wrapped up in tissue paper and placed into a small box. Cor stared at it for a moment before putting the lid on it and putting the box at the back of his drawer.

He didn’t see it again for years.

 

* * *

 

Regis completely changed the rooms around. He added a new mattress to his bed, he painted the walls a different colour, had new bookcases, had flowers in his rooms. The rooms of the King didn't look - they were different.

Aulea liked bright colours. The rooms were brighter. Warmer. Pictures decorated the walls. Regis and her. Clarus. Cor. All of them, together.

With Noctis came baby things. Toys, blankets, baby clothes.

Regis got a new settee three years after he’d become King.

The bedframe had little scratches, hidden, down one of the sides. Aulea once asked what they were from.

Cor knew the answers to that question - and a lot of the little questions too.


	2. Even Weeds can Grow Back when the Roots aren't Damaged

Regis found out.

Not about him, not about _that._

Two nobles came to him. They only told Regis because Mors was long dead. They didn’t even want anything - they just wanted to say it. They were young when it happened, and were not so young anymore. Cor - it seemed that he’d been the youngest.

_Sixteen._

He’d been the last, too.

Cor couldn’t open up his mouth and say the words as Regis buried his head in his hands, only him, Clarus and Cor in the office.

Cor had shut his mouth and looked away.

 

* * *

 

“I knew my father wasn't… good,” Regis had said, later, “but this. I thought better of him.” He looked up at the ceiling of the sitting room, his fingers twitching. Regis was upset, but more than that, he was angry. He had more morality and duty in his hands than Mors had had in his whole body.

Clarus nodded, rubbing his forehead. Cor could see him wondering if his father, Mors' Shield, had known about it.

(He had. Sometimes, he’d watched.)

Cor swallowed. It sounded loud in the room. But then again, so did his heartbeat. “Regis?” He asked, quietly.

The King lifted his head and looked at him. His eyes met Cor’s

Cor opened and shut his mouth, speechless. He couldn’t say it.

“Cor,” said Regis, “had you known about this?”

Cor nodded.

Regis closed his eyes like his next words pained him. “Did Mors - hurt - you too?” Cor had been Mors’ exact type - powerless against him, young, male. Handsome.

Cor jerked his head up and down. He still couldn’t say a word.

In the next instant Regis stood, and walked to Cor. Out of the corner of his eye Cor could see the look of utter horror on Clarus’ face and he had to look away. Regis reached out a hand to him before stopping.

“Can I?”

Cor stepped forward and Regis took it for the permission it was, and wrapped his arms around Cor. He could hear Regis breathing in his ear, his breaths soft. Stuttering.

“Cor, I'm so, so, sorry.” The King apologised to him and Cor closed his eyes. He clutched his friend back.

 

* * *

 

“Is there anything I- we- can do to help you?”

 

* * *

 

Regis changed the bed-frame in the King’s room.

Clarus and Regis looked a little ill when Cor traced the scratches on it and explained what and when they were from.

At ‘17th birthday’ Regis went out to be sick and Clarus cried into his shoulder. They had wondered why he couldn't go with them on the day, just… after. That the King wouldn't let him off his shift even thought it was his birthday.

Regis had even wondered if his father was going to be nice and would give Cor a gift. And Mors had - but it wasn't one Cor would ever want.

 

* * *

 

“Wine - he would always make me drink _wine.”_

“You don't like wine?”

“I never did. After - I hated it. It reminds me of him. He got me tipsy on it, the first time, too.”

 

* * *

 

When it was just the three of them and Cor had that expressions on his face - they knew what he wanted to talk about. And they would never stop him. He’d been silent for years, they would _never_ make him do that again. But as each horror was unveiled they wanted to have some way to make Mors pay. If the man wasn’t dead they would have killed him.

This time, he came in with a small box in his hand. Cor placed in on the side table and stared at it, hands on his knees.

“Your - Mors gave me this for my birthday.” Cor said.

They’d heard a little about this ‘birthday present’ but the other _present,_ the _rape_ , had seemed more important at the time. Regis eyed the box angrily.

“Cor?” Clarus asked and Cor shook his head.

“You open it.”

It looked just like it had come in the mail, and when Clarus opened it he felt tissue paper. He dug his hand in a little more.

Metal.

Clarus pulled it out of the box. They first saw the chain, a shining sturdy metal that they knew Cor could wear around his neck. He took it out completely and-

A ring.

He closed his eyes. Regis _snarled._

“Cor?” Clarus carefully asked.

“He said-” Cor ducked his head and looked away. “He said that he- would marry me if it was possible.”

Clarus felt his eyes burn and he grit his teeth.

“Cor-”

“He seemed to forget that I just wanted him to _stop.”_ Cor’s voice broke and he covered his face with his hands.

Regis swore, and wrapped an arm around Cor’s shoulders, whispering to him.

Clarus just stared down at the ring in his hands. It was expensive, masterfully designed. How could such a little thing embody so much pain?

Cor didn't want it. In the end they took it to Mors’ tomb and left it there, glittering in the dark. It seemed to take a weight off Cor's shoulders.

“I just wanted him to _stop_.” Haunted Regis and Clarus’ nightmares for years.

 

* * *

 

Regis didn't drink wine anymore.

Why didn’t he notice?

Sometimes he could almost imagine how-

 

* * *

 

Scars fade.

 

* * *

 

Cor grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the King and took a sip. He laughed at the face Regis made.

“That’s mine, Cor!” Regis exclaimed.

As a Crownsguard, he served the King. His King.

His friend.

 

* * *

 

The ~~King~~ is dead, long live the King.


End file.
